Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand and concentrated on Violet. Someone knocked in the background, and Ares’ muffled voice called out,“Vi, are you ready to go, yet? We’re starving.”
That fucker. War growled at Roman’s frustration, and Violet narrowed her eyes at the beast.“Did Roman make you do that?”War nodded.
“Where is your loyalty?”Roman grumbled, and War chuffed in response.
“Roman, if you hurt Ares, I won’t marry you.”Violet folded her arms across her chest.“Are we clear?”
“Did she just threaten to not marry me if I kill Ares?”Roman asked War with disbelief.
“I believe she said if youhurthim.”
The little minx.She’d pay for that later.
Violet reached out and tapped War’s nose.“Answer me, Roman Covington. Are we clear?”
She could have asked Roman to bring Dominic back from the dead and he’d have found a way. He’d do anything if it meant she’d marry him.
“Nod your head,”he instructed War, who dutifully obeyed.
The smile that spread across her face would make the gods weep. “She is beautiful.”
“She is,”War agreed.
Violet leaned forward and placed a kiss on War’s forehead.“I love you, prince.”
“I love you, too, princess.”
24
Roman whipped off his shirt and laid back on a bed in the palace infirmary.
“Are you sure you wantanothertattoo?” Marissa asked, eyeing Roman’s chest, where his newest addition would go.
Roman glanced at her sideways. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
His friend reached out to trace the swirling lines on his left arm, and he absentmindedly shook her off. “Don’t you think both arms are enough?” Her eyes raised to his. “There’s no need to cover up all of this beautiful skin.”
“You don’t like them?” he tried to joke, but something in the way she looked at him rubbed him the wrong way.
She dropped her hand and sighed. “I like tattoos, but yours are all the same thing.” Leaning closer, she examined the design going down his arm. “Why don’t you mix it up?”
Roman surveyed both arms, twisting them. “Because I don’t want anything else.”
Marissa dropped down on the stool beside him like a bored child and frowned at his arms.
What is with her lately?Wherever he went, Marissa either wanted to accompany him or happened to be there, too. She sought him out during training, always asking him to be her sparring partner, and lately, she’d been touching him more than he thought she should. Which was never. Perhaps she was just lonely. She didn’t have many other friends, if any.
Roman made a mental note to ask Slayton what he thought.
Alexander, the tattoo artist, waltzed in, took a seat, and cleaned Roman’s chest with soap and a damp cloth. “Okay, boss, show me which direction you want them to go.”
Roman tapped hisfamiliarmark that covered the left side of his chest. “Toward my heart.”
Alexander bobbed his head and dipped the needle-point tool in an inkpot. “You didn’t strike me as the sappy type.”
Marissa stood abruptly. “I forgot that I promised my father I’d meet him this afternoon.”
“You needn’t explain yourself, Riss,” Roman said dismissively. “I’ll see you tomorrow at training.”
